The Survivor
by Sugusu
Summary: Headhunter, CAT-2, disposable hero. There are many paths a Spartan can take. During the height of the Human-Covenant War, the UNSC needs heroes. Dwindling morale and resources forces Humanity to take drastic steps to stay ahead of the onslaught. Becoming a Spartan is the easy part. Surviving being a Spartan is another challenge entirely.
1. Prologue: Memoirs

Authors Note:

**This is my first attempt at writing a Halo fanfiction. I've read a lot of fanfiction on this site, and loved every minute of it. I'm finally going to give it a shot. I can't promise I'll be consistent with my updates, as I do have a full time job, but I'll do my best. Nothing motivates me more than comments and criticism, so bring it on. Anyways, here goes nothing...**

July 3rd, 2545

UNSC _All Under Heaven_

En route to 51 Pegasi System

Iris-B048

"Double time it! We have twenty minutes until we have to drop. You aren't locked in, you aren't coming. You guys don't want to miss the party, do you?" Gill-B032, the commander of Beta company, bellowed at the Beta company Spartans, myself included, moving around in the drop bay. Technically a company commander would hold the rank of Captain, but Bill was just a Petty Officer. Nonetheless, he was chosen as the Company leader.

"No, sir!" A chorus of voices answered him.

"That's what I thought."

I secured my MA5K in my drop pod- well, technically it's a "Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle", but we all just called it a drop pod...I'm sure you can imagine why. Anyway, I locked my rifle into the pod's frame to prevent it from flying around the interior during the drop.

The bay was bathed in a dark red glow that gave the UNSC _All Under Heaven_'s ODST bay it's common nickname: "Hell's waiting room." Pods just like mine lined the wall, ready to drop out of slipspace and begin our attack on Pegasi Delta. Denying the covies' plasma reactors' capability to produce fuel for the Covenant Navy would hopefully triple Covenant supply lines, and stall them, giving the UNSC crucial time to regroup and fortify. After that was complete, we were to rendezvous and extract via Black Cat-class prowlers.

That was the plan anyway. After what happened to Alpha Company, our predecessors, I wasn't too sure of our chances of survival. But this was our purpose, and we would see it through.

I slipped my SPI helmet on, hearing the pop in my ear as it booted up and linked me to the team-wide comm channel. My vitals appeared at the top, while the ammo and weapon info appeared to the upper right. To my lower left was my motion tracker. I set the range to twenty-five meters- anything further out wasn't anything I needed to be too concerned about, and nodded in satisfaction as I saw dozens of yellow dots appear in the blue tracker around me- my fellow Spartans.

Satisfied with my equipment, I stepped into my long range insertion pod. The hatch closed and sealed with hydraulic hiss. The midnight-black ablative stealth coating would ensure our insertion was as quiet and resistance free as possible...hopefully.

Sam-B221, my team leader, rapped his knuckles on the pod's hatch. In response, I pounded twice from the inside, signifying I was set and ready to drop.

A red glow lit up the inside as the pod powered on, indicating standby mode. The faces of my team appeared on screens in front of me, save for one, which remained blank. They didn't speak, but they didn't need to for me to know they were scared. We were all scared; this was our first major operation, and none of us wanted to screw it up. The idea of disappointing Lieutenant Commander Ambrose, the Beta company senior trainer, terrified us.

All the ambient noise disappeared as the launch bay vented it's atmosphere.There was a jolt as my pod was lowered down through the hull of the carrier. my cockpit lit up green and all I could hear was my own slightly elevated breathing and the pops and groans of my pod's frame. my pod shot free of it's restraints and a feeling of intense nausea and disorientation came over me as I transitioned to real space. Almost immediately we were experiencing the atmosphere trying it's damndest to incinerate us. I had no idea we would be that close. We had all trained extensively during boot camp of course, and were all orbital drop qualified, but I mean who can be ready to go from slipspace to atmosphere that quick?

My pod started to heat up, sweat beading on my face. I hit my drag chute at three kilometers and grimaced as my teeth were rattled by the sudden deceleration.

_At least there's no AA fire_, I thought to myself. Then again, we came straight out of Slipspace and into atmosphere. Beta Company didn't even expect that, so how could the covies?

Soon after, my retro thruster kicked in. That was the biggest jolt so far. One more to go-

My thoughts were interrupted by the screeching of titanium filling my ears and my lungs compressing from the impact. There it is. The biggest jolt of all.

I heard loud warbles of surprise.

Thing is, they weren't human voices.

Without thinking, I ripped through my restraints thanks to my augmentations and armor and used my enhanced strength to kick the hatch off.

I launched myself out of the pod, grabbing my MA5K on the way out and cannonballing straight into a stunned Elite minor.

The Elite minor, being among the lowest ranking elites, had neither the experience nor skill to stop a Spartan in full SPI armor from knocking his ass clear over the edge of the canyon. As I rolled to my feet, I discovered with some amusement that my pod had annihilated a covenant patrol. Splashes of multicolored blood and body parts surrounded my LZ. The Elite, I assumed, was the only survivor. Well until I made my grand entrance, that is.

I had landed on a narrow pass, somewhere between the top and bottom of the chasm. The sky was a reddish-orange, and there was a cave about three or four meters away. It was dead quiet, save for the far off staccato of gunfire.

I checked my motion tracker. Three yellow blips were steadily approaching my position. At the same time, the squeaks of the Grunts and low warbles of the Elites echoed off the cave walls. Movement behind me distracted me and-

"Iris, down!"

I dropped flat as something sizzled where my head had been only a moment before. There was Sam, saving my ass again.

"Contact, contact left!" Ian yelled, sliding down the ridge above me, as green bolts of plasma sizzled past. I rose to my feet and found that my squad had joined me just as covenant reinforcements poured out from the cave. Gunfire and tactical chatter replaced the silence as I wasted a trio of grunts.

Ian-B051, our heavy gunner, split the air with the clatter of an M247H Heavy Machine Gun, cutting a swath through the covenant infantry while Sam and I tackled an Elite Major to the ground, jamming our knives into it's neck.

I sprung off the Major and engaged an Elite Ultra, but it's natural strength and skill proved to be greater than I expected, even with my recent augmentations. It kicked my knife out of my hands and picked me up by wrapping its hand around the side of my head. The creature's eyes focused on my faceplate as a flat blade of blue energy extended menacingly from above it's wrist, as if relishing the moment.

His mistake.

I punched it straight in the mandibles while simultaneously wrapping my other arm around it's muscular neck to lock the creature's arm in place and keep the blade away from my body. The creature recoiled and I thought it's grip would loosen.

It didnt.

I struggled to breathe as the alien maintained it's grip on my neck. I aimed a kick at the alien's knee, but my boot glanced off the Elite's energy shield.

Suddenly, I felt the pressure disappear, and I hit the ground. All I could see was purple, which was weird. Weren't you supposed to see black when you died? A hand moved across my vision, smearing the purple. Blood and viscera. Wonderful.

"Next time, pick on someone your own size, yeah?" Sam said to me, extending a hand. I let Sam haul me too my feet. The Elite Ultra was crumpled just to my left, minus it's left eye.

"Playtime's over." Sam said, handing me my rifle back. "Let's get through this cave and set the charges. Then we double time it back to the Cats."

The cave proved to be empty as we made our way through, our Flashlights casting ghostly shadows on the tight walls. By the time we emerged into the dim light of the refinery, we could hear the distant gunfire and other sounds of battle. The main force of Beta Company had begun their assault.

Ian kicked off our entrance by mowing down a trio of grunts. A nearby Elite Zealot whipped around and barked something in it's native tongue. Almost immediately, plasma started criss-crossing the room.

The Zealot drew two energy swords and starting moving towards the Spartans. Sam and I primed grenades and lobbed them straight at the incoming alien. The detonations knocked it off balance and it's shield winked off. Angry, it closed the distance and kicked out at Sam, audibly cracking his sternum and ribs. He crumpled on the spot. Simultaneously, it swung out at Ian. He ducked, not fast enough, and the sword just barely glanced off the top of his helmet. I stepped forward and emptied my magazine point blank into it's chest, painting the wall behind it with blood.

Sam was shakily getting to his feet, gasping as his broken ribs free floated around his abdomen. His eyes came to rest on Ian and he stopped dead.

The bodies of a dozen or so Covenant littered the room...as well as one Spartan III. That Zealot had taken a bit more out of his head than the top of his SPI helmet.

"C'mon. Let's set these charges." Sam pulled me away from the spectacle. We encountered no more resistance as we came to the primary reactor. I stood by the door and covered Sam while he set the charges. The rumbles of the distant battle were getting louder and more powerful, which struck me as odd. Wraiths didnt make that big of a boom. Sam finished the last of the charges and tapped me as he passed to let me know to move up.

We moved out of the room. I could tell he was hurting still from his ribs, but he insisted he was fine. He pushed me ahead of him, shouting "go, Iris! Stop looking back. I'll be right behind-". He was cut off in a choked gurgle. I whipped around and saw the twin prongs of an Energy Sword spearing his neck. When his body fell...his head did not follow, leaving the Spec Ops elite behind him to toss the head to the side.

"Sam!" I screamed just as I was blasted back several feet. The charges had detonated. Sam's body, as well as the Spec Ops elites, were silhouetted for a split second in the flash.

By the time I regained my feet, he was gone. With a crash, the pillar gave way and the plasma tank it was supporting crashed into the ground. Chain reactions lit up along the base of the spire further back into the mountain, causing the main spire to erupt in a second, much larger blast that sent me hurtling several hundred feet back as a resounding thunderclap rattled my helmet and head. I shouted again as I felt my left arm break and my shoulder dislocate, followed by stars behind my eyes as my head smashed into the ground. I slid another few meters and finally forced my lungs to open and taste the filtered air from my helmet. I shakily got to my feet and looked towards the main refinery complex ten kicks away.

Around a hundred Spartan IIIs clashed in the open against waves and waves of covenant infantry, armor, and air support. They were slowly whittled down into two hundred and fifty. The clouds above the facility shifted and no less than seven Covenant cruisers appeared.

"No…" I whispered.

Beta Company was getting annihilated. Weapons normally meant for ship to ship warfare was atomizing dozens of Spartans at a time. They had no chance.

Within seconds, a small sun appeared at the center of the factory, which burned away the seven covenant cruisers holding low orbit over the factory along with my entire company.

Numb and defeated, I made a fist and paused. I took three deep breaths and rotated my arm, feeling tendons and muscle shriek and pop. I heard the snick of my shoulder popping into place, throwing my head back and opening my mouth in a soundless howl.

The facility was gone. In it's place was a glowing crater several kilometers across. The operation was a success. I didn't feel it. You were supposed to feel good after victory, weren't you? I couldn't imagine how defeat felt.

I turned around, and registered a searing burn in my abdomen.

An Elite. Spec Ops. Barely recognizable with burned, blackened armor and charred flesh, was standing less than a meter in front of me holding…

I felt myself being lifted off the ground. I looked down- and laughed. I laughed at the energy sword spearing my midsection, I laughed at the notion that I thought I would be leaving Pegasi without my Company alive. I laughed and laughed, blood bubbling out of my mouth and pooling on the inside of my faceplate. The annihilation of Beta Company was complete. I took my helmet off, breathing in the dust and decay, the smell of death and destruction, and let it fall...


	2. Chapter 1: Getting my feet wet

September 21, 2546

Aboard UNSC _Agincourt_

En Route to New Llanelli, Brunel System

Holly-B071

I sat up quickly, gasping. The images from the mission still going through my head.

_Not my mission. Beta Company's_, I kept having to remind myself. I didn't belong to them anymore.

But that didn't stop me from wishing I was there, or torturing myself with Iris' helmet cam footage. I, like the rest of the Beta Company Spartans that were pulled, were gathered and briefed on the fate of our company.

They pulled us from our parent companies because we were "Cat-2", meaning we had the genetic markers that the older Spartan II's had. If I had been born a few decades ago, I probably would be a II right now.

I had requested to keep the footage from my squad, and that request had been granted, seeing as that's all I had left of them. I kept thinking that maybe my squad would have been okay if they hadn't been down a Spartan. Thinking like that can drive a person mad, though. So I did my best to put it out of my mind. Iris would never forgive me if I let her death distract me from my duty.

Iris and I had known each other our whole lives. It was exceptionally rare, if not downright unheard of, for two Spartan IIIs to have known each other before our homeworld was burned to a cinder, much less that they both had the markings of Spartans.

I remember that I didn't cry when I watched the Covenant ships descending on my homeworld. I never felt sad, or upset. I only felt angry. I was so angry. I looked at Iris and saw in her eyes the same fury I had felt. I wanted to make them pay.

When the ONI recruiter came through and asked who wanted revenge, my hand must have broken the sound barrier when I raised it. Iris wasn't even a millisecond behind me. We were inseparable. I think the instructors knew that too. We worked well together. Why else would they put us in the same squad? Now she was gone.

They were all gone, except for me, and a couple of others who had Cat 2 markings. I had to move on, though. Like I said before, Iris would be pissed if I slipped up now. I had a chance. A chance to make the covies pay. And man would they pay.

Before I was even born, the Covenant have been destroying and pillaging our worlds, without provocation. The fact that the UNSC had held on as long as it had was due to the heroism and bravery of the thousands of UNSC men and women dying every day, tactical and strategic genius, and the Spartans, of course.

The Spartan IIs came first. They were- and are- damn near unkillable. I remember seeing footage of them in training; our legacy. Faster, stronger, and braver than any human ever to exist in our history, they have made a two decade long career out of performing the impossible. The sporadic ground victories the UNSC have actually won were almost always due to Spartan presence on the ground. The downside is, there are only a few dozen of them. not nearly enough to turn the tide. That's where we come in. Alpha company was the first of the new generation, deployed in 2536. Alpha company almost lasted an entire year. Deploying all over the galaxy, fighting both Covenant and Insurrectionists.

Insurrectionists. I thought, shaking my head with disgust. How dare they. The UNSC was the only thing standing between humanity and extinction. What right did they have to kill the same men and women that would lay down their lives to evacuate them from a planet under siege by superior alien forces. Last time I checked, I didn't see Innnies fighting alongside us to defend humanity from our common foe. The fucking audacity of-

I'm sorry. I get a little worked up over Innies. Anyways, Alpha Company was the first. During the battle of New Harmony, ONI managed to slip a tracking probe onto a Covenant ship. In July of 2537 they followed that ship into slipspace and were never heard from again.

Now, Beta company. We- _they_ didn't even get the luxury of a successful first mission. Oh, it was a "strategic success", sure. Except nobody from Beta is still alive to know it was successful. Well, except for two, but the point is… the point is, Beta Company is gone. I'm sure another generation of IIIs is being trained this very moment. No doubt to have their lives thrown away into another suicide mission.

You might think I'm okay with all this, being bred to die and all. The truth is, I'm not. We aren't hardline indoctrinated like the IIs were. Just because I would have followed orders to the end, doesn't mean I agreed with those orders or would have done so happily. Nobody would step out of line, though. Not after everything we went through to get here. Or maybe I'm just different in the way I view the world. Who can say?

Hell, Lucy was so messed up from losing her entire company, she can't even speak. I hope they managed to keep her out of the psych ward. She deserves better than that.

Like I said about the anti-UNSC amoral scum that is the Insurrectionist movement, they don't see any problem with attacking a distracted UNSC while it sacrifices people in the thousands just to slow the Covenant down.

Fuck innies, man.

I threw my legs over the side of my bunk and rubbed my eyes. It took me less than three minutes to throw my undersuit and SPI armor on. I ran a diagnostic on my armor and saw that it was working fine. Grabbing my helmet on the way out the door, I headed for the briefing room.

My chronometer read 1748, just over an hour before my briefing.

With nothing else to do, I had a meal in the mess hall. I sat alone. I am alone now, my company- my family, is gone. I sat in the officers section, but no one said anything. Everyone knows better than to screw with a Spartan in full armor. Well besides the Covies, but they don't count.

I finished my meal and dumped my tray in the tray return, making my way to the briefing room.

I didn't pass very many crew members on my way there, but that wasn't surprising. This mission wasn't supposed to be happening, and the less people involved, the better. I did, however, run into my team leader. He was from the Alpha batch, pulled for the same reason I was.

"You ready to go?" He asked me.

I shot him a thumbs up, "readier than you, old man."

In his early twenties, he wasn't exactly an old man for a regular human.

But for a Spartan whose company was sent to fight and die at twelve years old, he was nearing middle aged. I know, I shouldn't be talking shit either, being twelve myself. Twelve standard human years and I'm about to depart on a black ops mission against genocidal aliens. Good thing augmentations and brutal- excuse me, rigorous training gave me the body and mental capacity of a sixteen year old Olympic athlete.

He chuckled at my fiery response, slapping my back, "you're gonna do great, kid."

The door opened with a hydraulic hiss and we stepped inside.

"A266, B071, please have a seat." A man- ONI spook- I could tell from his ONI uniform, encrypted eyepiece, steely eyed glare- standing at the front of the room spoke. The briefing room was empty with the exception of us two- well three, if you count the spook. I guess that's deniable ops for you.

We sat down on the benches that lined the wall, and a topographical map of New Llanelli lit up with several dots- cities and other towns, and our objective in blue.

"Your objective," the spook began, "is to extract an intel file from an ONI data vault behind enemy lines. The researchers there are protected by a small force of ODSTs. The package is a priority, but save the civilians and the troopers if you can. Contact with the colony was lost twenty two hours ago, so we fully expect hostile contact. We should be exiting slipspace in fifteen minutes. Any questions?"

We stayed silent.

"Dismissed."

General quarters was called not long after we exited slipspace. A few minutes later, dropping through space, we could see why.

I mentioned the Covenant, yes? Xenophobic alien invaders, burning and pillaging their way across UNSC space for the past twenty years or so? I guess we shouldn't have been surprised then, when we found half of New Llanelli already in flames. Giants pillars of smoke and ash were already obscuring parts of the Coroa supercontinent. My pod began to heat up and flames licked the edges of my view port as we began our descent.

I very vividly remember drop training. The calm, serene drift downward towards the surface of Onyx, and then a hellstorm of fire and heat. The first jolt jerks you in your harness like a parachute in a standard in-atmosphere jump from the drag chute opening. The second jolt hits when the retro jet under the pod fires to slow the descent down to a survivable velocity. The third and final jolt comes when your pod slams into the ground. Back then I had custom fit ODST armor. Now I have augmentations. Without either of those, my ribs would look like someone had put them through a wood chipper.

I've got to admit though, dropping with a chemically enhanced skeletal structure is a hell of a lot less painful than ODST armor. Yeah, it may protect you, but it still hurts like hell.

Anyway, I passed through the exosphere and through a thick pillar of smoke and dust. By the time I cleared it, I could clearly see most of the capital city ablaze, if you could even call Palena that. It wasn't really a city, more like a town. It wasn't the sea of skyscrapers like New Alexandria so much as a large grouping of houses and farms. The Palena garrison was getting absolutely whipped, but the evacuation was underway.

I hit the ground- and you're not going to believe this, straight through a wraith. I mean my pod went straight through the left anti-grav wing. It listed and quite literally ground to a halt. As soon as I jettisoned the hatch, I knew I was in trouble.

The angry warbling of the Wraith gunner was nearly drowned out by the sound of gunfire and plasma discharge. It was close. Maybe a few dozen meters away. I immediately engaged, dropping a quartet of grunts with a magazine from my MA5K, and then engaging the Elite Minor in hand to hand.

"Hey, Spartan! Over here!"

I turned my head, drawing my combat knife out of the Elite's neck as I did so. A marine was waving his helmet. It was smart. No seasoned marine would ever stick their actual heads out of cover with jackals prowling around the ruins.

I sprinted towards his location, covering the distance in two seconds. From the time my pod hit the ground to me diving behind cover, about eight seconds had elapsed. The covenant were just now beginning to realize what happened, judging by their angry shouting.

I looked around. I was in the first floor of a parking garage. Technically it was the second floor, but the building had sagged under the intense heat of the plasma fire, rendering the second floor reachable from the ground. The marine was surrounded by about half a dozen exhausted looking Army Troopers, each sporting either small arms or SPNKr Rocket Launchers.

The difference between the Army and Marines was that Marines typically handle offensive engagements, while the Army acted as garrison forces for UNSC planets. Not that the Army troopers weren't every bit as combat capable as their Marine counterparts, but the only Army veterans you saw these days were those that escaped their previous stations as they burned. Marines have more experience within their ranks, but the Army got way better equipment.

"You got here just in time. That wraith was about to fry us." The marine beckoned me to follow him as four more marines came pouring into the room and taking cover among the Army troopers. He looked to be in his late thirties to early forties- definitely a veteran then. His chip identified him as a Gunnery Sergeant.

"Give me a sitrep, Gunny. How bad?"

He gave a mirthless chuckle. "It's bad. The situation in orbit is a shitshow. AA assets are at almost zero combat effectiveness and we still have about three-thousand civilians in need of a way off planet. My unit is tied up in the southern district of Palena here. The 54th has the north, and the 90th is split along the east and west."

I glanced up as we passed a hole in the ceiling. Covenant aircraft flew unmolested above the city. They owned the skies.

"I'm looking for another Spartan, like me. Have you seen any other pods come down?"

The gunny walked me into a room as I asked him, but before he could respond, a slavic accent behind me said, "oh, there you are. I was beginning to worry."

Behind me was Jun, grinning his usually cocky grin. He hopped off the crate he had been perched on.

"Ready to get to work?"

"You bet-" I began. I was cut off by the rushing sound of a wraith mortar smashing through the garage. A human body came tumbling down along with rubble as the mortar annihilated a machine gun nest a few floors above us.

"They're gearing up for a charge!" Someone shouted. Jun slapped his helmet on and started towards the makeshift barricade out front, the Gunny and myself on his heels.

The marine was right, dozens of energy swords winked threateningly behind a wall of grunts and jackals. Jun shouldered his rifle and took the head clean off a Sangheili Field Marshall near the front of the covenant force. Hundreds of angry shouting voices followed.

"That'll piss 'em off." Jun chuckled.

"But they'll storm straight here and destroy our defensive line." I protested.

"Be patient," he chided, "and learn to use the environment to your advantage."

And so I waited. The Covenant forces, enraged at the loss of their leader by a lowly, dishonorable human sniper, began running towards us, filling the space between our two positions with plasma and needle rounds.

A boom shook the ground. A building to the side of the garage collapsed, it's last remaining support pillar destroyed by a block of C-4. The resulting rubble tumbled down and crushed almost the entire covenant offensive. The few dazed survivors posed no threat whatsoever to the Marines and Army Troopers.

I was impressed, to say the least. I had never considered dropping a building on the covies. Now I could see what he meant by using the environment.

"So," he said, surveying the carnage with satisfaction, "ready to get your feet wet?"


	3. Chapter 2: A change in opinion

September 21, 2546

New Llanelli, Brunel System

Palena, Southern district

Holly-B071

Jun and I made it to the objective in almost no time at all, slinking among the ruins of the decaying city. The sounds of battle were constant and all around us. As we moved towards the city center, we realized that the defending forces were arranged off kilter to the city center, and were almost equally distanced from our objective. That didn't stop the covies from popping up inside the perimeter, though.

Just like we had ODSTs, the covenant also have drop pods. Ranging from single occupant pods for Elites to giant tulip- like pods that could carry an entire squad. Those forces were currently harassing the UNSC throughout the city.

Navigating the crumbling city was a cake walk. Normally, in a more populated environment, it would be a soup of rubble, fire, and dust. But being such a small colony, the biggest buildings we had to worry about were office buildings- rarely more than five stories tall.

Jun and I used our augmented strength and flexibility to slip amongst the infrastructure like ghosts. We came across very few enemies, mostly jackals or grunts that had lost their leaders and wandered the battlefield aimlessly. They were no threat whatsoever to two Headhunters.

Two hours after we initially made planetfall, the target building was in sight. Pitiful few UNSC troops were left. Half a dozen ODSTs traded fire with almost an entire legion of encroaching covenant forces. One of the ODSTs rose up and empties both tubes of his SPNKr, sending two rockets streaking into a wraith tank. The first shot slammed into the frontal armor, sending chunks flying and the tank reeling backwards. The second shot finished the wraith, hitting the center of the rent of the armor made by the first one. The wraith exploded into shrapnel, killing several unfortunate grunts nearby and draining the shields of an Elite, who was quickly killed by an ODST sharpshooter.

"See how the Elites hang back and send in the grunts first?" Jun pointed out to me from our overlook a few stories off the ground. "They soften us up with Grunts and light vehicles before committing heavy armor and themselves. That's something we can exploit. Follow me."

Jun dropped fifteen feet to the ground- a small hop for a Spartan, and I moved with him. Together, we cut a swath through the aliens. We weaved in and out of the knots of covenant, crushing, stabbing, and shooting until we had cleared the barricade and were in cover right beside the ODSTs.

With the first wave already getting torn apart by the ODSTs, the Covies didn't notice us until we had nearly reached the ODSTs, and there was nothing the Covies could do once they _did_ notice.

"Spartans. I should have fucking guessed." The ODST grumbled. It was a well known fact that they didn't like us- hated us even. I didn't care. If they wanted to agonize about their rescue by our hands, they were free to do so in their own time.

"Where's the package?" I yelled over the sound of gunfire and plasma bolts.

The ODST shook his head, "not secure yet! I need all the guns I can get right now!" He broke off as another ODST went down shouting, two needle shards embedded in his shoulder. A medic broke off and slid over to him, slipping his helmet off and starting to work on the wounded ODST. Jun took the wounded man's place on the line, sending sniper rifle rounds into the crowd of covies as fast as the bolt would cycle, wreaking havoc in their command structure.

I poked my head over cover and began dropping covenant infantry that got too close. To us, everything moved slightly sluggish. Due to our enhanced reflexes, we had what was called spartan time. I was able to put grunts down with single shots to the head, quickly and efficiently, burning through a whole magazine in about thirty seconds.

Once we had some space, I switched to my SRS99-S5 AM and started to work on the covenant leadership. Jun had already taken care of most of the higher ranking squid-heads. All that remained were the minors with a major here and there. It showed, too. They were so disorganized, some of the shots ended up hitting over covies. That didn't bother me, they were easier targets. One elite, two elites, ten elites. I lost track of time.

_Bang_

_Bang_

_Bang_

_Bang_

_Reload_

Jun chuckled as I dropped two elites with one shot, over penetrating the first target's skull which, I'm not going to lie, was pretty damn cool.

Eventually they pulled back. They had to. With Jun and I whittling them down, they couldn't break us with their current numbers and they knew it. A lot of people think Elites don't retreat, which isn't true. Elites retreat all the time. It's Brutes that don't retreat, because they have no grasp of basic tactics. Normally, with Brutes leading the charge, they'd just keep piling their own bodies up as UNSC defenders destroyed them with superior cover- as long as the ammunition held out, that is.

With time to collect our breath, we headed inside the facility. It was dark- power had been out in this district for days now, and a small group of scientists met us with a data chip to take back to the fleet. There weren't as many as I originally thought there would be, only like three or four. They were quiet, too. No doubt they had been hunkered down for days, living off of instant coffee and MREs.

Jun took the chip and studied it for a moment. He shrugged and put it in his pocket.

"Are you gonna tell me what that was about?" I asked him, curious about what he'd found.

"It's for a new type of fighter. Schematics and specifications. Hmm…" he mused, looking at his HUD, "looks like it can go toe-to-toe with Seraphs. Interesting."

I pondered that while Jun called for extraction. I've got to admit, I was curious. I was probably the best pilot in my company- except for B312, damn him, so I was very interested in all the new toys that the Air Force and Navy cooked up.

We instructed the scientists to get their shit together and get ready to leave. Gunfire started up outside, and Jun and I immediately made for the door. I expected the covenant to try and hit the building again. What I was not expecting was to see three ODSTs shooting at something inside our perimeter. They were backpedaling as fast as they could without tripping- which did not bode well.

A zealot stepped around the corner. A mean, ugly son of a bitch. He came around the corner swinging. I dove to the side just in time to avoid an energy sword thrust. Behind the sword-wielding elite were the bodies of two of the ODSTs.

A second elite had jumped down onto Jun from the rooftop. He slid under the energy sword thrust and kicked out, toppling the alien. They wrestled for control of the sword as I went head to head with a Zealot. A third Zealot decloaked behind me, swinging at the ODST survivors, who all barely managed to evade him- well, except for the third one. He was the wounded ODST from earlier. He got a nick across the ribs, causing him to fall to the side, holding onto his abdomen. "Fucking twice. They fucking got me _again_!" He went on a rant so laced with profanity, I'm surprised the grass around him didn't wilt.

The zealot in front warbled something in his native tongue and stepped towards me, blade humming, and thrusted. Training kicked in.

I sidestepped, grabbing the Elite's arm and using it's momentum to throw it into the Elite behind me, spearing it through the chest. In the same motion, I swept my knife out and lunged for the first one's chest.

The knife glanced off it's shield.

I realized I should have gone for the neck in the same moment that the Elite stepped forward and deliver the mother of all sucker punches to my stomach. I doubled over and coughed, but dozens- maybe hundreds of hours of hand to hand combat training backed me up.

When I doubled over so far I could almost kiss the ground, I used that momentum to throw my left leg back, over my head, smashing my boot into the Elite's face, popping his shield and breaking a mandible or two very audibly.

The Elite roared and delivered a swift kick to my chest, sending me at least ten- maybe fifteen meters and skidding across the ground, making me gasp in pain. Yeah, I sounded like a pussy, but his kick just happened to land in the same spot his fist had connected not three seconds ago. It fucking _hurt_, alright?

Anyway, it leapt towards me, and I was fucked. At least until an ODST stepped in with a shotgun and blew a basketball sized hole in it's chest.

I stood up, wincing at my fractured ribs.

"I'm never gonna hear the end of this." I grumbled.

"Yeah, well, it's the least I could do after that badass helmet cam footage I just caught." The ODST replied. "You bend that way naturally?" He added, somewhat amused.

"Are you hitting on me in the middle of a warzone? And they say we Spartans are ballsy."

Jun was just now getting up from his still twitching corpse of a Zealot. "Knives work better when there's not a shield in the way." He supplied unhelpfully. I let my middle finger reply for me.

"What were they after, do you think?" I asked him, as the ODST's medic helped up the one who was nicked- still swearing under his breath, mind you.

The scientists timidly stepped out from the entrance behind him. They seemed to be terrified, if not a little in awe, but I couldn't figure out if it was from the attack or the fact that we had taken care of the Zealot team in less than a minute.

"The shields probably. The Covenant are imitative, not innovative. Anything we engineer from them, we improve. They want to steal it back." He answered me.

"What's this about shields?" The ODST who killed the Zealot asked, looking up. His voice had an ever so slight layer of excitement.

"Above your paygrade, Helljumper."

I didn't hear his reply. The ramifications of what Jun said hit home. A space superiority fighter with shields could help tip space battles in our favor. If we could equalize the playing field in space, we wouldn't be losing this war.

Well, I take that back. We'd probably still be getting the shit kicked out of us up and down the Orion Arm, but we wouldn't be losing as bad.

We do fairly well on the ground. Every colony the covies burn gets generously watered with their blood.

Hell, the UNSC has even outright repulsed invasions before. The problem was, we couldn't win in space. An orbital victory trumps a ground victory every time. We could kill every single covie on the planet, but if our navy can't hold the system, the covenant can just glass the planet at their leisure.

Even if we had single ships on par with the Covenant's, their capital ships could still bend the UNSC Navy over and ravage it without breaking a sweat.

I reminded myself not to be so negative but, then again, I had forgotten what hope felt like.

A roar in the distance quickly revealed itself to be a DC77 Pelican. A very useful multipurpose dropship used across the Marine Corps, Army, and Navy. We boarded along with the scientists and ODSTs. We lifted off, soaring over rubble, smoke, and ash. There was no sign of the covenant force that had been harassing the ODSTs. I guess the Zealots were plan B, and we didn't stick around long enough for plan C.

The evacuation had been all but completed while we had been searching for the package, and we were home free until the radio crackled.

"_This is Kilo 3-2 broadcasting in the blind._

_We are pinned down and in need of extraction. Civilians with us, over_."

A holdout of Army Troopers.

"Triangulate that signal. We're going to get them." Jun ordered.

Our pelican had room, so we opted for a rescue. No one, not even a Spartan, would leave people on a planet about to be glassed. And if you _would_ do that, you probably aren't even human, so fuck off.

We cleared a particularly dense column of smoke and began to see flashes of green and blue criss crossing below us, easily visible from our altitude.

Best part about plasma, it's so damn easy to spot. I guess that would be more of a concern for them if they weren't the ones always on the offensive. If I had overwhelming superiority in technology, I wouldn't care either.

But I digress.

We began to descend, and the pilot opened up with the forward mounted rotary cannon, turning the covies below us into bloody ribbons. Jun stacked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, waiting. As soon as the pelican touched down, he slapped my shoulder and I moved out, going right. Jun went left. The ODSTs set up a perimeter at the ramp of the dropship.

The troopers were holed up in an old house. Nothing too fancy, just standard titanium build. With a fence- long since destroyed, and a yard riddled with burns and debris. I counted six troopers, plus five civilians. Jun and I cleared a path up to the front door, in an eerily similar way to what we did before. I guess it's true, covie tactics never change. Why worry about a rear guard when the planet is as good as yours?

Jun took two smoke grenades from his belt and popped them. He threw them out the door, ducking back just as plasma singed the door frame. He held up the hand sign for "ten", and I began counting. When I reached _eight_, twin blossoms of fire exploded outside, throwing sod and chunks of asphalt high into the air. ANVIL-II Air to Surface missiles. The pelican had our backs.

_Ten_

The primed grenades outside had belched a thick cloud of smoke by this point and Jun took off. The army troopers took up position on either side, and I brought up the rear. The civilians were safely between as we herded them through the smoke and into the Pelican on the other side of the yard. As I passed the ODSTs, I slapped him on the shoulder. Well, it was more of a tap. If I were to actually slap him, I'd probably dislocate his shoulder. Not ideal, obviously.

The ODST, slapped another one on the shoulder, who in turn tapped the third. As one, they backed into the pelican, still firing. As soon as they were clear of the ramp, the pelican shot straight up, causing my stomach to plummet to my feet. The ramp hissed shut just as we cleared the lowest layer of clouds. The last thing we could see was a covie assault carrier holding position over the city, it's plasma beam burning away any evidence that humans had ever inhabited New Llanelli.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief. My first mission was a success. To be honest, that was a shock to me. Maybe I wasn't bred to die after all.

**_Author's Note: I'm honestly surprised that people are already reviewing. A big thank you to DarkHazen, your support means a lot and gives me the motivation to keep writing. Updates are going to slow down a little bit after this one, but they will still come. Thank you all!_**


	4. Chapter 3: Unorthodox

July 9, 2548, 0338 hours

Meridian, Hestia system

FOB Tracer, UNSC held territory

Holly-B071

Three months is a long time to successfully defend against covies. A _very_ long time. After over two decades of colonies lasting anywhere from a few days to several weeks, it was refreshing to think about the possibility of a UNSC victory.

Not that I'm getting ahead of myself here. The covies were by no means suffering disastrous defeats. The skies are actually filled with UNSC fighters rather than covies ones, and the UNSC miraculously still has a presence in the system, but that doesn't stop the covenant from killing hundreds, maybe even thousands of humans every day- be them civilian or military. But we were holding them at bay for now.

But their ground forces.

Oh, _man_, their ground forces.

Three months ago, an assault fleet entered orbit and dumped their entire ground complement- over a hundred thousand strong, who began assaulting UNSC positions across the planet.

Initially, we were getting pushed back as per usual. But something the Covenant hadn't counted on was an absolutely ludicrous amount of UNSC Air Force cover. Thousands of Longswords, Shortswords, Broadswords, Pelicans, Hornet, Falcons. You name it, they were there.

The Covenant's air assets were dust by now, and now all that aerial human firepower was the only reason we haven't been overrun.

So, here I am. Trying to catch some much needed sleep after slipping around behind enemy lines killing, sabotaging, and blowing shit up. I remember this room from just two weeks ago. We got pushed out of this area two weeks ago, and now we were back again. Sleeping in a place that recently belonged to the covenant was a novelty. Taking ground back was an even bigger novelty.

After my mission to New Llanelli two years ago, I undertook several other suicide missions as part of my evaluation. They weren't literally suicide missions, obviously, but they weren't a walk in then park, let me tell you. What's a suicide mission to someone who is always prepared to die, anyway? So, I was promoted to full headhunter after I deployed to, and returned from...well, let's just say another UNSC colony to put a dent in the local insurrection. Sorry, that mission is still very much classified. Jun left for parts unknown immediately after, probably to replace a KIA member of another spartan team. Ever since my partner almost got his leg crushed by a falling building, I've been going at it alone. Until he gets back, that is.

The only other occupants in this room were two marines and an Army trooper, all sound asleep. I checked my chronometer. 0338. I mentally shrugged, four hours of sleep is better than no hours. I was the only one not sleeping- until Mark walked back in, that is.

Mark-B018, my best friend- well, best friend still breathing, I mean. I'm sure you know what I mean. He and I had been causing the covies never ending hell for almost a year now, ever since we had been paired together. Just like me, he was the sole survivor from his squad from the disastrous Operation: Torpedo two years ago.

"Are you seriously sleeping again? Have you even left this room?" He said, dropping his pack and weapon on the bunk next to mine.

"You know I have. Who else would smuggle those brownies from the mess hall that your fatass is addicted to?" I shot back.

He chuckled. "Thought you should know, by the way, command wants us to hit another covie depot in six hours to coincide with the 12th Marine's push into the outskirts of Trône."

I rolled my eyes, "of course they do. I suppose we're on our own again?"

"I wouldn't say that. They're giving us jet packs and a hornet."

"I feel so loved." I sighed, swinging my legs over the end of the bunk.

I know, our banter might seem ridiculous to outsiders. You know how the public portrays us, selfless, mindless, killing machines. Covie nightmares. That might be true for the Spartan IIs, but the IIIs were like family behind closed doors. We poked and prodded at each other, sure. But at the end of the day, we backed each other up. Mark was the closest thing to family I had left.

I slipped into my SPI armor, and checked my equipment. I could tell by checking the topography on my HUD that the trip would take a good three hours, so we might as well go now. Early is on time, and on time is late, I guess. At the very least, it would give us an opportunity to do a recon of the area.

I walked with Mark through the FOB, looking around at the dozens of bodies moving around with their own individual purposes. Warthogs, Scorpions, and other vehicles lined the motor pool, ready to form up and engage the covenant whenever it was their time, Marines and Troopers assembled in preparation for their next mission, and Hornets and Pelicans were landing at rearming points and were quickly refueled and rearmed by ground support personnel. War didn't keep office hours. Aircraft were coming and going twenty four/seven, keeping the pressure on the covies.

Mark and I quickly moved aside to allow a convoy of warthogs to rush by us. They skidded to a halt and a small group of recon ODSTs hopped out, just back from a raid into enemy territory. Four of them were bearing stretchers.

As we passed them, I could see a pool of blood through the open door. All of the vehicles were riddled with burns.

We stopped by the armory first and signed out two Series Eight Single Occup-... you know what? Jet packs. Call 'em fucking jetpacks. Like everything else in the UNSC, the name was _way_ too damn complicated. The quartermaster looked us over. "Just make sure you bring 'em back in good cond…" he trailed off. "You know what, keep "em. I can tell that it's not going to happen."

I couldn't tell if he meant that because we would discard them or because he didn't expect us to make it back. I didn't want to know, either.

Next stop was the airstrip. We found a maintenance officer writing something in a computer.

"Which bird is 082?" Mark asked him. The maintenance officer didn't even look up from his task as he pointed behind him to a battered Hornet sitting off to the side. I didn't blame him. What were two spartans compared to the never ending task of keeping the UNSC Air Force fleet in the air?

Mark did his preflight checks while I inspected the weapons. It was also being fueled and armed by a team of groundies- which is what we called the ground support guys.

I hated Hornets. Don't get me wrong, they were great for close air support, and the amount of versatility and damage output it was capable of was impressive, but the only place for passengers were two jump seats and a single rail to hold on to. Not ideal, obviously. Some variants even have a dual cockpit for a copilot. But, we weren't that lucky. I had to sit on the skids.

I would normally have loved to fly, but I was the only one with a sniper rifle, which we would need to fend off any stray Banshees from the rear. We also weren't flying into any kind of dogfight, so Mark's skills as a pilot were good enough.

As we lifted off, I could see flashes in the distance. The frontlines. Meridian was one of the UNSC's military production powerhouses, with one of the biggest populations in the outer colonies. That meant we had to bog the covenant down to evacuate the enormous amount of civilians. Trench warfare did this _very_ well.

We flew over the outer FOB wall, and into the night. It was a cool night, perfect temperature. So my armor told me, anyway. I couldn't feel it because of my pressurized suit, but it was good information to know for a sniper. Temperature, wind direction and speed, hell, even the curvature of the planet was important. I had an arm hooked through the jump seat, and I was constantly scanning the ground for covie anti air emplacements. I couldn't scan the other side, but fifty percent coverage is better than no coverage.

We flew over the mountains- in fact, he seemed to be almost showing off with his ability to skirt the peaks of mountains. It didn't matter to me. I could still outshoot _and_ out fly him. I hoped he didn't think I was actively trying to be better than him, though. We're a team, aren't we?

I shook all thoughts of Mark out of my head. Strange that I spent so much time thinking about him nowadays. I never actually realized how much I would end up missing him until he was in the aid station for a week. He was supposed to be there for two, but you try telling a Spartan to relax when there's a battle to be fought.

I spent most of my wait time staring out into the early pre-dawn. Fires still raged in the distance, and if you looked at the sky at the exact right place and time, it was possible to spot the trace of a MAC round, or the flash of plasma as the UNSC fought to secure the orbit of Meridian.

"Coming up on the Trône outskirts now. Buckle up, Hol, I'm going low."

I braced against the jump seat as Mark threw us into a near terminal drop, sending my stomach into my throat and the world rushing up at a nauseating speed. God I loved to fly.

Mark took us through a gulley, over a river, and through a pass in the Mathon mountain range. There was a firefight raging below us. An Army patrol was engaged with a covenant force. They were outnumbered and falling back.

"Mark, take us in for a gun run." I told him.

"Yeah, we got time. Pop the king hinge-head. Stabilizing." He replied, stabilizing the Hornet so I could make accurate shots.

I stood up in the jump seat- no easy task, mind you, and braced against the side of the Hornet. I scanned the area around the troopers who were bounding in two man teams. One trooper would lay down suppressing fire while the other fell back ten or so meters, then that one would provide covering fire and so on. Through my VISR I could clearly see everything. Amber outlines on all the terrain, red outlines on the covies, and green for the troopers. I switched over to straight white on black thermals, as it would be easier to see with at long range. As I got closer to the covies, I stopped to snipe a suicide grunt that was getting too close to a trooper dragging a wounded comrade back.

Suddenly, a flicker caught my attention. The streaks of a fuel rod cannon lit up the ground as they streaked towards the helpless troopers. Two of them shot harmlessly past the group, but the third impacted a soldier to the edge of the group. He disappeared without a trace, and the explosion caught another on his left side. I'm sure he survived, but plasma burns are painful and slow to heal. He'd be in the aid station for a while.

I swung around and found a Field Marshall unloading his fuel rod onto the UNSC forces. I didn't even pause as I drilled a round straight through his skull, painting the ground with a white splotch in my HUD. Blood is warm, obviously, so on thermals it shows up _really_ well.

As soon as I confirmed the kill, Mark swung around and contacted the troopers. The fuel rod was, realistically, our only threat. Now that it was gone, Mark was free to engage.

"This is Hornet 083 to UNSC forces in the area. Keep your heads down, boys."

Without further ado, he lit up the surviving covenant with his top mounted chainguns. Shell casings clinked off the Hornet and my armor as they rained down around me. Through my thermals, I could see more white splotches- and chunks- appear as the chainguns tore into the covies.

"Recon Force Badger to Hornet 083, thanks for the assist, over."

"My pleasure, Badger. Try the brownies when you get back. They're delicious. Out."

Mark shot towards the west.

"You can't win a war with fat troopers, Mark." I teased him.

"You can't win it with bottomed out morale, either."

I shook my head with a grin and sat back down in the jump seat as he shot off towards the direction of the depot.

At about 0600, the covie depot came into sight. We were still a ways out, but it was visible due to the flat terrain between us and them. There were dozens of warehouses and sleeping areas for grunts. Lines of wraiths and ghosts were set near the east, while banshees and phantoms sat on their airstrips ready to go.

I know, I said the covenant had no air assets, which wasn't strictly true. They still had air assets, just not ones they were willing to send on the offensive due to the stiff resistance that the Air Force was putting up.

However, the entire area was blanketed with AA batteries, preventing a UNSC Air Force strike. Those were our primary targets. The covie armor and aircraft were secondary, and covenant command posts or high ranking officers were tertiary. Standard stuff. The entire area was only lit by low light plasma torches which would make our job a bit easier. I'd prefer pitch black, but this would suffice.

"How are we getting in?" I asked him, knowing full well that A: he had a plan, and B: I would immediately hate it.

"Oh you know...just get ready to jump." I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I rolled my eyes and prepped my jump pack, feeling the slight kick as the jets powered up.

Mark flew right over the enemy camp. Looking down and seeing hundreds of angry covenant faces looking up at you wasn't the most reassuring thing, let me tell you.

I flinched back as half a dozen needle rifle projectiles thudded into the fuselage next to me, with two more shattering at an angle against the titanium plating. For a moment, I thought that our attackers had crazy good aim, then I registered the fact that the air around us was filled with plasma and needles. Not the greatest odds.

I was about to ask Mark what the hell he was thinking when I saw the open cockpit door- with Mark halfway out of it.

"You can't be serious!" I shouted at him over the comms.

"Jump, Holly!"

"Fuck!"

I let go of the rail and kicked off, flying away and down from the Hornet as a plasma burst lit up the thruster I had recently been crouched under. A near miss from a beam rifle singed my leg as I fell, but my armor took most of the heat, thankfully. The Hornet, now pilot-less, drifted downwards and hit a covie guard tower, causing the whole area in a thirty meter radius to go up in yellow and purple flames.

To ensure that my jump pack wouldn't be visible, I hit the thrust just in time to come to a semi-graceful crash, slamming into the side of a dormant wraith, denting it.

"Fuck me," I groaned, getting to my feet. I had lost my sniper rifle. I loved that sniper rifle. I was down to my M6.

Mark's light winked green in my HUD and he materialized to my left. "Told you it would work." He said smugly.

"You never even told me what would work." I protested.

"They probably think our Hornet was a lost UNSC Air Force bird that stumbled into their camp. They'll most likely think the pilot was incinerated. We were too high to spot when we bailed, especially in this light, so we are, effectively, undetected." He explained.

Okay, I had to admit that was pretty clever. Not that I would ever say it out loud. Using the Hornet as a distraction, and slipping in undetected. The covies were probably too busy fighting fires to worry about an incursion, and who would ever think two Spartans would free fall into their base? I was impressed.

"Okay, so what now? You were the one at the brief." I asked him.

"What brief? They said 'hit this depot' and I said 'oh, sir, I'd love to."

I glared at him for a moment before looking out at the distant haze of smoke from our crash site and started strategizing. We had no intel, but I could work with that. All we had was ourselves and our weapons- well not even. I had lost my primary weapon. How I had even managed to keep my M6, I'll never know.

"Oh, I also marked all primary targets. I'll send it to your HUD."

"When the hell were you going to mention this?" I demanded as a dozen markers for Type-38 Mantis AA cannons appeared on my HUD.

"When you finished your little pout session. It's adorable when you pout." He depolarized his faceplate, showing me his goofy grin that I so badly wanted to punch off his face.

"If covies don't take your head off on this op, I'm gonna kill you." I told him. He didn't seem fazed. "So long as you get me before the covies do, I'm cool with that."

He had an excellent ability to irritate me. Regardless, we still had a mission to complete. And we would complete it, come hell or plasma fire.


	5. Chapter 4: Out of the frying pan

July 9, 2548 0930 hours

Meridian, Hestia system

Covenant Supply Depot, Covenant-held Territory

Holly-B071

An explosion shattered the night.

"Ooh." I said, admiring the purple and blue bloom of fire. It was a very pretty explosion.

"So you prefer plasma based explosions to flowers. I'll be the best wingman yet." Mark joked next to me.

It had taken all morning, but charges had been set on three of the AA batteries, leaving a sizable gap in the Covenant AA net to the east.

"Even the Air Force should be able to get through that." Mark continued, "next targets, Elite leadership. Let's go."

Mark and I continued on towards the center of the depot, setting even more charges on the covies lines of vehicles as we went. The purple shells of their heavy armor were great for hiding against, as my SPI armor only had to compensate for a single color.

By now, the covenant had no doubt deduced that they were under attack. However, they had no way of knowing how many of us there were or even what we were. We had a few close calls on our way though, like when a Covenant patrol passed close enough for me to touch as I pressed myself against the red frame of a revenant.

The covies had started combat patrols once the AA guns had gone up, no doubt searching for us. Our SPI armor was a lifesaver, allowing us to stand right next to a covie without them noticing- so long as we remained absolutely still, that is.

We only had to engage once. It was just pure coincidence, really. Mark was passing by an elite major who was angrily warbling something at a cowering grunt. The grunt was carrying a water can and it was shaking so much, it dropped the can, splashing water all over Mark and causing his active camouflage to distort.

He silenced the grunt with a neck snap- too fast for the eye to follow- while I tackled the elite and shoved my knife up and into it's skull.

Thankfully, they were the only two covies around us. We kicked dirt over the blood stains and found a covie weapons crate, which we promptly stuffed the bodies into and sealed up. We were on the move in less than two minutes.

I watched Mark from behind as he moved ahead three meters in front of me. It was curious the way he moved. Like me, he's built like a swimmer. Slender and lithe. He had a certain catlike grace, with light, yet rapid and confident footsteps. Seeing his actively camouflaged figure move like that was impressive. I can tell you, it's not easy to move confidently when you can't see your own body. But being a headhunter as well, I probably moved the same way. He drew the detonator and passed the corner of the phantom, moving further into the base, away from the collection of banshees and phantoms that were set to blow.

It was during my distraction of Mark that I, quite literally, walked into one of our targets.

It happened as I passed by the last phantom in our current row, following him. We had spent the past minute slinking through the rows of vehicles and aircraft planting little bricks of Enhanced Composition Four, or EC4.

EC4 could pack a det packs worth of explosives into a small block about five inches by eight. Great for wetwork like what we were up to. You can carry a ton of them, too.

Anyways, I passed around the corner of the phantom and was nearly stepped on by an Elite Zealot coming out of the side door of the Phantom. He was big even for his martial species, standing at about nine feet tall.

I froze, but he had already seen the movement. I leapt back, rolling to my feet as the Zealot roared a warning. I fumbled with my rifle as Mark came sprinting around the side, his rifle firing.

The Elite's shields flared but held firm. Mark clacked empty, threw his rifle at the Zealot- which it easily knocked aside- and went for his sidearm. While this happened, the Zealot had drawn his energy sword and backhanded Mark, sending him flying. With his other, sword wielding arm, he swung out at me.

I ducked, and the sword cut a gash into the phantom. I opened up on the bastard, and finally managed to drain his shield, but this time, my rifle clacked empty. Why couldn't we get issued MA5Bs for christ sake?

I dove for the Zealot, and tackled it to the ground, but it kicked me off. Mark was on his feet and tried to fire, but the elite activated it's energy dagger and swiped right through Mark's sidearm, slicing it in half.

The elite grabbed me in a chokehold, using my body to shield itself. Mark had no sidearm, and his rifle was meters away.

But we still had the detonator.

"Mark, do it!" I ordered him. The mission had to come first. These aircraft would wreak havoc on the UNSC. The attack was scheduled to begin in less than a half hour.

Suddenly, across the base, covie alarms rang out, and the aircraft began to lift into the sky. My blood went cold. The attack had started early. We had to execute now.

"Blow it, Mark!" I screamed at him.

"I can't!"

"Do it!" I couldn't understand why he was holding fire. Then I felt my heart drop as Banshees began lifting off in twos and threes. I could see from his biosigns that his pulse was skyrocketing.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the compound, distracting the elite, who got it's knee broken by a rearward kick from an augmented Spartan. It toppled over, its leg unable to support it's weight, while I fell to the ground, coughing and gasping.

A knife was flung and impacted the Elite in it's left eye, killing it instantly. Mark grabbed me and pulled me to my feet, dragging me away from the mobilizing aircraft.

Meanwhile, overhead, UNSC Shortswords- Short range bombers- screamed overhead. Several were downed by AA cannons. Dozens more were destroyed by covenant aircraft...the same aircraft that were, only a minute earlier, lined up and ready to be destroyed. One block of EC4 per four to five aircraft and the chain reaction would have wrecked them all. Now we could only touch one in five. The rest would go on to harass UNSC air forces and ground forces. The UNSC assault could possibly fail.

And it was our fault.

I grabbed for the detonator, and managed to get my finger around the trigger. A fist of thunder and smoke slammed into my back, sending Mark and I flying. I felt my helmet fly off my head as the seals failed, and I crashed into the side of a covie building, putting a sizable dent in the nano laminate wall. Lines of wraiths that the covies were just now powering up and about to flank the UNSC with were exploding in huge conflagrations of shrapnel and fire. At least the UNSC wouldn't have to contend with extra armor. It wasn't a game changer, but it was something.

I coughed and sputtered, reaching for my fallen helmet. Suddenly, Mark was there, pulling me to my feet. As soon as he released me, I pulled him around and punched him, sending him flying backwards into the wall behind him. "What the fuck, man? What was that? Why didn't you do it?"

He struggled to get up, but thought better of it when he saw the look in my eyes. He had my helmet clasped in his hand. "Could you do it, if it were me?"

"We are expendable. We were bred to die!" I shouted at him, "they-"

"What?" He interrupted me. "They deserve to live more than me? More than you?"

"So, you're a coward."

"I don't put their lives above mine," he said quietly. "I don't with yours either. If we do, how are we even human? Are you a robot?"

He spoke with a very uncharacteristic vulnerability. I had never heard him sound like that before, and I was speechless. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not one of them. We saved each other all the time. In firefights, we covered one another. If one of us got hit, we would patch eachother up. This was an entirely different level. Hundreds of UNSC forces would die needlessly because those aircraft lifted off before we could destroy them. Mark put me before the mission, which was extremely unacceptable. Especially to the brass. If they found out, it would end his career- and ONI didn't let spartans retire.

I spent so much time thinking about how to complete the mission, that I never thought about how far I'd be willing to go. He was right. I wouldn't be able to do it. Mark was my friend and my Headhunter counterpart. Bonds didn't go deeper than that.

Did that make me a bad soldier? A bad Spartan? As a Spartan, I should be able to gladly sacrifice my life. But I didn't when it involved others. I didn't want Mark to die. I didn't want to feel the way I had when Iris had died. Mark would have been killed just as surely as I would have been, and I didn't realize that in the heat of the moment. Mark must have felt the same way. His hesitation must have been because I would have been killed, and we were close. It was still no excuse for allowing personal feelings to get in the way of the mission, but at least I understood.

I stepped back and held my hand out. He took it and I pulled him to his feet. Just then, the sounds of hunting covenant were audible. He tossed me my helmet without a word and took up position at the corner of the wall. There would be time to sort out my feelings on what he had done later. Our first objective was to survive.

I still needed to have a stern talking to with Mark, but that could wait. For now, our tertiary targets and secondary objective: preventing a counterattack.

"Holly…" Mark began.

I cut him off, "later."

"I need to talk to you."

"I need to talk to you, too. Later."

He winked his green light, making me sigh. Clearly something was bothering him, and it wasn't just our little scuffle. He was a spartan. He was by no means prone to emotionally break down or to let minor things get to him. I had to talk to him, and figure out what was distracting him so much. But first, we had to deal with the covenant garrison that was out for blood.

"I got us in, so how are you getting us out?" Mark asked. His comment was, without his usual snarky emotion behind it, chilling.

"We don't need to." I didn't look at him. I pointed upwards, where two pelicans and a falcon were descending. I popped a green signal flare and waved it, before tossing it in front of me. I didn't like this feeling. I felt like I had somehow disrupted the trust and connection that Mark and I had. I hoped it didn't get one of us killed.

The falcon descended first, making a short orbit overhead, and shredding the approaching covies. The pelicans landed next and offloaded a platoon of marines, who fanned out and secured the LZ. It's pass complete, the falcon descended near us.

"Neat job, Spartans." Their Lieutenant told us. It really hadn't been. "They want you to join the offensive to support the 31st Armored Division. We'll mop up here."

"You got it, Lieutenant." Mark gave him a thumbs up. To the casual observer, he seemed chipper as ever. To another Spartan, you could tell the slight tightness of the shoulders, and the over- controlled movements. I really needed to find out what his issue was.

We boarded the falcon and lifted off among a cloud of dust. We could see Marines policing the area, breaching the buildings that were still standing and checking the dead to see if any were still breathing.

Beyond, it was possible to see UNSC forces pushing through Covenant lines into Trône. Flashes of 90mm high velocity shells from the scorpions, and the even brighter flashes of artillery shells softening up covie positions lit up like distant lightning. With my enhanced night vision, I could make out green and blue plasma bolts as the aircraft we had missed harrassed the UNSC. I felt a little more relieved when I saw that a platoon of Wolverine AA units were with them. At least they wouldn't be totally helpless.

We got closer- close enough to see the winking flashes of plasma fire and the orange and yellow tracers of UNSC weapons. The pilot began opening up with the 20mm nose cannon, annihilating infantry and light vehicles. The falcon set down just behind a scorpion as it rolled up and over a ghost, crushing both the driver and the vehicle under 65 tons of UNSC armor.

Another scorpion rumbled up to us and stopped. Two marines were sitting on the left side on the front and rear treads. The hatch popped and the middle-aged tank driver popped his head out.

"You our spartan support?" He asked.

"You know it." I replied, hopping up onto the front tread. Mark took his seat on the rear one.

"I'll take you to the dismount point. There you can join the rest of the infantry guys in the push." He told us. I noticed that around us, scorpions and warthogs were similarly laden with passengers.

"Let's rock and roll." I told him. He dropped back into the tank and we rumbled forward. Maybe Mark would feel better after he had killed something.

Hell, maybe I would too.


End file.
